


night fever

by GalacticGoldfish



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Crying, Depression, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, M/M, Masturbation, Men Crying, Pining, Sadness, Stealing, depression wank, pining blackwall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticGoldfish/pseuds/GalacticGoldfish
Summary: blackwall is just a sad man who wants to be loved. yet he feels like the only thing he deserves is loneliness and a sad jerk in the corner of his bed.





	night fever

Blackwall was a liar. In his mind he wasn't even a very good liar but yet he had managed to make it this far. Every step he took he felt as though he was being watched and scrutinized. With every word he said he risked getting caught in his lie. That's why he had been very careful about what he had been doing up until now. He had been careful about not making any missteps to give anyone any reason to distrust or question what he said. So when he left the laundry room in a hurry he hoped that it hadn't looked suspicious. It wasn't that out of the norm that he would have been in there after all but his nerves had gotten the better of him upon leaving.

But he wasn't stopped on his way back to the barn that he had been calling his home for his time in the Inquisition. It was better to be further away from the rest of the folk who might start asking questions. Who could poke holes in his Grey Warden stories and cause problems to arise. Plus the workshop attached was a nice distraction. But for now he had something else that needed his attention. The shirt he had taken from the laundry smelled heavily of the Inquisitor. As disgusting as it would have perhaps been to someone looking in he loved the smell that the Inquisitor had after coming in from a long day of battle or exploration.

Somehow the smell was comforting. As if even though the world was collapsing and the Inquisitor was increasingly growing beyond his reach he still had that one thing. Lately Iron Bull had been taking the muscle position whenever they went out leaving Blackwall with plenty of time to sit and think and train on his own. He didn't need the Qunari spy reporting back on anything he might mess up. He had felt Iron Bull's one good eye on him more often than once when he spoke and it wasn't something he liked to invite. But instead of think about that in the safety of his loft he collapsed back onto the bed, bringing the shirt up to his face and burying himself in it.

The smell of smoke and wood hit him first, followed by the subtle scent of the perfumed baths the Inquisitor had found himself fond of once they had set up their permanent base in Skyhold. It got cold up here and the elf had immediately taken to hot baths with herbs and perfumes prepared with Vivienn's careful instruction on measurements for maximum luxury. He could smell the lavender and rosemary from whatever bath had come before this shirt had been worn. For aching muscles if he remembered right from what Vivienne had tried to hint at him for. 

But he wasn't exactly fond of sitting in a bath full of water when a quick rinse was good enough. The jibes about how he didn't exactly smell pleasant just made everyone stay away from him anyways unless they had a good enough amount of business with him. It also meant that no one was going to bother him now either. With a groan he pushed his face further into the shirt and lifted his hips just a little bit. He would need to keep his voice down just a bit so that he didn't draw attention to the fact that he was about to relieve himself with one of the Inquisitor's shirts. 

Or the fact that he was about to relieve himself at all for that matter. Luckily night was falling and the people who frequented around the building were already wandering off. If he were smarter about this he would wait until later into the night but instead his hand was already wandering down to move his breeches just enough so that he could release himself. If he was smarter about this he probably also would have waited to make sure that he would be covered if someone did decide to wander in at this hour. But all of his careful planning went out the window as soon as he hit the bed and for once he felt free.

He closed his eyes and imagined that the shirt was still on a warm body rather than just sitting there clutched in one of his hands as the other began to slowly stroke his cock. He liked to pretend that he was above and beyond this sort of thing when it came up around the campfire in the "just between us" chats, chastising Bull and even Dorian for commenting on such things. But he was already lying so much he couldn't really think about having to lie about more. 

The fact that he got off to thinking about the Inquisitor's soft body after a long day of traveling... It would be too much for him to try and keep up the pretense. But there were no pretenses when he was alone in his loft, a low groan escaping his lips as he shuddered and bucked his hips up into his hand. Rotating them and grinding so that maybe it would feel just a little bit more like the real thing. Of course his own large and rugged hands were probably no where near as soft as the Inquisitor's. 

The elf's hands were smaller than his as well and Blackwall imagined how light he would be on top of him. Riding him as he held onto the Inquisitor's hips and guided him just slightly. Blackwall wanted the closeness, the affection. He wanted to be able to look the other man in the eyes while they made love. Maker was he desperate for love though he knew that he didn't deserve it. Especially not from Lavellan. But thinking about the idea of it brought him close time and time again. 

His breathing hitched as the tip of his dick quivered just slightly, aching to let off a release aided by the smell of lavender and rosemary. Desperately he groaned and moaned into the shirt as he turned to his side to face his shame towards the wall rather than think about what it would be like to have the Inquisitor in bed with him. He didn't deserve to think about that. What he barely deserved was getting by with panting heavily into a dirty shirt from the wash as his eyes closed tight with him trying to clear his mind.

Blackwall could feel his body seizing up slightly as he bucked into his hand once more, this time feeling the wet sticky liquid cover the palm of his hand that he'd used to make sure that the mess he made was contained. He had learned from past attempts that the less mess he made the easier it was to explain away if he needed something washed or cleaned. Especially if he could just do it himself. His breathing didn't slow though, not on that one off and not with the shirt still so close by.

He didn't want to move it just yet so instead he kept his eyes closed, allowing himself for a moment to imagine that the Inquisitor was there once more. Imagining that they would help one another clean up and then at the end collapse gently into his bed for the night. Tears pricked at the older man's eyes for a moment as he thought about all the things he wanted and yet most definitely did not deserve. Blackwall couldn't even allow himself to be happy in his thoughts.

Blackwall felt heart ache once more as he lie there motionless except for his heavy breathing moving his chest up and down. Finally he opened his eyes, releasing the stream of tears that he had been holding back. Carefully he pulled the shirt away from his face and set it gently to the side without looking. He didn't want to look away from the wall for fear that even more tears would stain his pillow than were already falling. 

Cleaning up was a chore that he didn't want to bother with. But being caught with his pants down and cock out wasn't exactly ideal if someone came to ask for him tomorrow morning. Though few and far between people bothered to visit him regardless even fewer came up to the loft. Preferring to shout at him from the first floor of the barn instead and in this instance that would suit him fine. But instead of letting himself sit entirely in his own mess for the rest of the night Blackwall blindly grabbed for a rag near the edge of his bed, trying not to move around too much as he did it.

Cleaning himself up was quick and painless at least and tomorrow he would properly go and rinse himself in some cold water. It was a penance for how he had indulged himself on this night. Tomorrow would be another day, none brighter than the rest but hopefully not any darker either.


End file.
